


Self-preservation

by ImmortalAcorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Background Character Death, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Character, One Shot, Sex, Some Plot, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalAcorn/pseuds/ImmortalAcorn
Summary: I said I wouldn't come anymore, that we were done, that I was done with him, never wanting to see his face again. Yet here I am. Again.I can't help it. When the days get hard, I always come to him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 29





	Self-preservation

'You know, Potter, this is getting old,' he drawls and his voice creeps up my spine, smooth and haughty.

I said I wouldn't come anymore, that we were done, that I was done with him, never wanting to see his face again. Yet here I am. Again. 

I can't help it. When the days get hard, I always come to him. 

I don't know why... Ha! A lie. 

'Just like you,' I say because I don't have anything better. I feel ashamed I came, I have no self-esteem and I am so annoyed with the whole day I couldn't think straight and that's why I'm here. Because he's always on my mind when I'm angry and nervous.

He laughs. 'What a comeback, Potter.' I shrug, I don't care. 'So?' 

It hangs between us, the question we both know the answer to. He stands in his door, not letting me in. What a prick, it's not like we've never come to blows before the last time.

'So?' I ask back. 'Will you let me in?'

He tilts his chin higher, looking down at me, smirking. 'Why would I? You made it clear the other day.'

If he thinks he'll make me beg...

'I'm not going to apologize.'

The smirk disappears and his fingers tighten around the door knob. 'By all means, Potter, you can fuck off.'

Before he slams the door in my face, I push my arm against it. 'A child died because of you Malfoy! You want me to apologize? Then go to her mother and apologize to her first!' God, I want to punch him right in his sneering face.

'Because of me?' He was red in the face, angry. 'How am I responsible what people do with their purchases? Did I...' 

'You are! You are responsible, you are selling the shit. It's because of you people die, because of you the girl died!'

'Fuck you, Potter! Fuck off you utter shit!' His spit lands on my cheek and he's pushing the door closed with all his strength. 'You think you're so righteous, oh the Saviour, the Hero! Fuck you!' 

I kick the door, his eyes blazing with anger when they bang into a wall. He lifts his wand to my face. 'If you don't get out right now, I will hex you right in your fucking face. And then you can say I am responsible for maiming you.'

'Can't you just once show a little remorse for your actions?' I grit through my teeth.

His hand shakes and few sparks fly out of his wand. 'It's not my business once the item leaves the shop, it's not mine anymore once it's paid for. I am not responsible for the customer's actions.'

'It is you who is selling it so it makes you accountable. You are the enabler, Malfoy.' I want him to feel bad, because it would make me feel better about myself. 

I don't see anything but fury in his eyes. Just as there was nothing but mild interest when I delivered the news. _'That is truly awful. Why do people do things like these?'_ was what he said three weeks ago. 

'I'm not making anyone come to my shop and buy whatever they want. People have free will, Potter, I believe even you should be familiar with the concept.'

'So you don't feel anything at all about the whole thing, you don't care an innocent child died because it was your shop that sold the earrings?' Feel something you twat! Show me that there's something good left in you! Make me hate myself less.

'It is sad, awful, yes, but not _my_ fault! I refuse to wallow in misery because some piece of shit decided to murder his own daughter. You are not some kind of god to make me feel what you think I should!' His wand rests on my cheek, I feel the tip against my skin, warm with hatred.

'You should feel sorry, ashamed, a good person would.' There is no point. I know him well enough. We were friends. Somehow we found a way out of our school animosity into, at first, reluctant friendship. Then we started sleeping together. And then something happened and he started with the dark magic again, opened a shop under the pretence of honest business, selling objects of questionable origins... and the relationship changed, sour, even worse when we fucked. Worse because it was good and I wanted him, wanted to talk to him, kiss him, fuck him. I despise him for wanting all of it still, for disregarding everything I don't like about him. 

'Yes, a good person. Someone like you. Not someone like me.' He took a deep breath. 'Now that we're clear, get out. I am tired of listening to you.' He lowers his wand and steps back. 

I stand still, not moving an inch. It started settling in several hours ago, when they questioned me, when I was filling in the report, when I was eating my dinner. And now there's an urge to be rid of it, the emptiness of not feeling guilty. _I'm no better than Malfoy._ I don't feel any remorse.

'I killed him today,' I say in the silence, void of emotion. His eyes widen a fraction. 'I felt good, for a second. Then I felt nothing. He's dead and I don't care.' 

'What a hypocrite you are, Potter. Coming here, lecturing me, trying to make me guilty of something I had no power over and here _you_ are, a true murderer.' It stings a little. I see disgust in the curve of his mouth. 'Did you come here so you'd feel better about yourself? Because you believe me a murderer too? Did you think if you'd make me confess my guilt it would vanish the blood on _your_ hands?'

I laugh because this is ridiculous. 'Yeah, I came because I wanted to feel better.' He is seething, his hands in fists. 'I want you to make me feel better.'

He snorts. 'Strange way you have going about it. Insulting me, infuriating me. You think that will make me fuck you?'

'It used to.' 

He doesn't say anything, we both know it's true. It's always strangely satisfying after a fight.

When he doesn't move, I speak: 'So?'

The door shuts when he waves the wand in its direction and I know what follows. He puts it on the desk under the mirror. He's looking at me, not moving. 

I walk towards him and without another word start taking off his clothes, his shirt first. I kiss him and he still doesn't react in any way and that's not what I want. I want him moving against me, with me, not standing there like a cold stone. I pull away and look at his face while pushing my hand in his trousers. The smallest of sounds spills from his mouth and then with: 'I really hate you sometimes' he grabs my head with his hands and starts kissing me, like he always does, hungry and soft and biting all at the same time. 

He unbuttons my jeans while I feel him getting harder in my palm. He pushes it down my ass, then my pants and starts on my t-shirt, off and on the floor, his mouth open on my neck, his palms on my ass, pushing me closer. I get rid of the rest of my clothes and his too and then I feel his chest against mine, our cocks between us. 

'Let's go to bed.' I murmur, I want to take him slow and comfortable, on his nice smelling sheets and soft pillows.

'Mhm,' he hums in my mouth, backing us towards his bedroom, only stopping kissing when walking up the stairs and resuming once off them. 

We fall on his bed, rutting against each other. His finger finds its way to my ass, lower and inside. 'You want to fuck me?' I ask him, licking his bottom lip. 

'Yeah,' he murmurs and darts his tongue out to claim my mouth. 

'I want to fuck you too. Slow and nice, I want to listen to your moans as I take you apart.' 

'Yeah,' he breathes and his finger dispappears and becomes two.

'Which then?' I moan, he brushes my prostate at every other stroke.

'Yes, whatever you want. Inside of me... inside of you, I don't care...' I kiss him and push down on his fingers, just twice. I take his wrist and withdraw it away. 

'Turn around,' I say and he does. His ass is on display, his thighs spread. I kiss him there, suck lightly, move to his cheeks and spread them, kiss him there as well, dart my tongue out into him. I know he likes it, he always complains how dirty it is, how gross I am for doing it, but when he does the same to me, all's good. Right now he just spreads his thighs wider and pushes back. I suck, lick, kiss and I love every fucking sound he makes. 

'Oh my fuck.. yes, yes... oh god,' he chants over and over. I add fingers and he buries his face in his pillow and lifts up his ass more. 

I lube myself, my fingers and push in again until he's all warm and slick. 

I lean over him, my chest against his back and my cock nestled between his cheeks. 'I'm gonna fuck you so long and slow you forget your name,' I whisper in his ear.

He laughs and turns his head towards me. 'You can dream, Potter.' He kisses me and I slowly push inside. I muffle his groan with my tongue in his mouth. 

I start a slow grind with my hips. 'Good?' I whisper and he nods, biting his lip. 'How good?' I prod. I want to hear him.

He makes a nonsensical sound and licks my chin, probably aiming for my lips but missing. I almost stop moving altogether when he finally speaks. 'Merlin, I can't believe you want me to stroke your ego right now when _you_ should be stroking something else.'

I grin and wrap my fingers around him. 'Better?' I breathe in his ear, feel him shiver, I kiss his jaw, chin and lift him up with me, to his hands and knees. I hold his hip with one hand and stroke him with the other.

And then it's just like every time, hot and unbearable in its inevitable end. I hear his breathing getting harsher and more shallow, my heart beats wildly in my chest. I pretend it's just the strain of the action, sex and nothing else. I need it to be just that.

His arms give out at some point and he begs _please faster, I can't, please_ and I don't because it's special kind of torture for both of us. But I can tell, in few moments, I will give him what he wants, what I want too as a mean to an end. Then everything becomes harder and faster and he likes it, I like it just as much and I can't remember why we don't do this every day, every night.

I can't supress the groan escaping my mouth when I come, pointless, really. I slump down on his back, my hand around his cock trapped between him and the bed. I don't want to move, ever. But he does. He pushes me off and turns on his back, slaps my hand away. I watch, his red splotched chest and face, sweaty forehead where his hair is sticking to. 

I straddle his legs and take his hand away from his cock, lean down and lick him. I kiss along the length and then suck him in. I love how he feels in my mouth, hot and heavy and hard. I hum around him and his fingers bury in my hair, gripping tight and painful. He thrusts his hips up once, twice and I taste his release on my tongue. 

I think about how soft his skin is, how good he smells when I kiss up his stomach and chest and neck and lay myself down on top of him. His hands roam my back and his fingers tangle in my hair anew. We kiss for a while, two minutes, ten minutes, half an hour, I can't tell. Time is not important when he's so hot and solid under me, when I can't think of anything but him and his warmth.

...I jerk awake in the middle of the night, my head on his chest and our legs intertwined. I watch him sleep, breathing in and out. 

I get out of bed, shame coming back for me. How could I ever let this happen, let this go on? I killed a man for him because he would sent him to Azkaban just so he could avoid it.

_'No, the curse is not dormant, don't worry. It's just obscured because of the aurors constantly snooping outside.' 'Can it kill?' 'Yes, in worst case scenario. Why?' 'Just interested, that's all.' 'Sure. Maybe you should think about this necklace instead? Infatuation charm woven in the chain that can make her seek you out.' 'No, I'll take the earrings.' 'Very well.' _

God damn it! And still, I don't regret it! I don't feel bad or remorseful. I made everyone a favour. It was justice, for the girl. I know it was. But _he's_ still here, lying innocently in those blue sheets, the man who allowed it to happen. The man I know, no matter how many times I will try to stop myself, I will seek and come to. Again and again and again. 

I don't have any self-preservation. 

I know I will knock on his door tomorrow or a week later or in a month.

Doesn't matter when, only matters that I will.


End file.
